Chapter 3 — Missed Moments

Veeresh lay on the floor, his back against the couch, letting Innayat climb over him like he was her personal mountain.

She was two—soft curls, wide eyes, laughter that arrived without warning. She slapped his cheek gently and giggled, her tiny fingers curling into his beard.

“Appa,” she said, the word still new but already powerful.

Veeresh smiled without meaning to. With her, the world softened. The weight he carried every day loosened its grip, just a little.

He lifted her up, spinning once, twice. Innayat squealed, her laughter filling the room—pure, unburdened, untouched by the complications of adult lives.

His phone rang.

The sound cut through the moment like a blade.

Veeresh froze.

He knew the name before he saw it.

Poornima.

He answered.

“Yes,” he said, already bracing himself.

“You have a meeting with the investors,” Poornima said briskly. No greeting. No pause.

“Where are you? Come soon.”

Before he could respond, the line went dead.

Veeresh stared at the phone.

His jaw tightened. His teeth ground together as frustration settled deep in his chest. There was no room to explain. No space to choose. Responsibility didn’t ask—it demanded.

Innayat tugged at his shirt.

“Appa play,” she said softly.

Veeresh kissed her forehead, holding her close for a moment longer than necessary.

“Later, kanna,” he murmured.

Later was a promise he kept breaking.

---

Across the city, Saif sat alone at a corner café, stirring the same cup of coffee for the third time.

It was their friendship date.

A tradition—unofficial but sacred. No work. No family drama. Just the two of them, talking until the world faded into background noise.

He checked his phone.

No message.

Saif smiled faintly, though something in his chest tightened.

He understood responsibility. He always did. That was his flaw—understanding too much, expecting too little.

Still, he waited.

Because friendship, like love, survived on patience.

And silence.

---

That evening, crystal chandeliers lit up a high-profile party where wealth shimmered louder than music. Conversations were polished. Laughter was measured. Every glance carried intention.

Narayana stood near the bar, impeccably dressed, listening more than he spoke—as always. Deals were discussed between sips of expensive wine. Opportunities floated through the air like smoke.

Across the hall, Neha adjusted the sleeve of her dress, feeling out of place and unseen. She had attended the event reluctantly, invited by a colleague who insisted it would be “good exposure.”

Exposure to what, she wondered.

She scanned the room briefly, then looked away.

Narayana did the same.

Their paths crossed within feet of each other—two familiar souls separated by time, pride, and fate.

They didn’t recognize each other.

Not the boy who once watched her from afar.

Not the girl who once believed waiting was enough.

They passed like strangers, unaware that memory stood between them, holding its breath.

---

That night, the city kept its secrets.

A father left playtime unfinished.

A friend waited longer than he should have.

Two hearts stood in the same room—

and didn’t know it.

Blood pulled.

Time resisted.

And love, patient and dangerous, waited for its moment to return.